


She Wants to Fight

by cottonwoolfairy



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-01 06:44:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18795064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cottonwoolfairy/pseuds/cottonwoolfairy
Summary: "She wants to fight, but she can't. She wants to saddle her horse, ride down to Kings Landing, and fight. But she mustn't. When you're the sworn sword of the Lady of Winterfell you have to go where she leads and stay where she tells you. You can't simply strap on your sword and fly to the fight. She wants to fight. But she can't."- a short vignette set post 8x04.





	She Wants to Fight

**Author's Note:**

> Yup, this will probably be Jossed by tomorrow! Many thanks to Shoeless for the beta on this.  
> These characters aren't mine - they belong to George R R Martin and HBO.

She wants to fight, but she can't.

She wants to saddle her horse, ride down to Kings Landing, and fight. But she mustn't. When you're the sworn sword of the Lady of Winterfell you have to go where she leads and stay where she tells you. You can't simply strap on your sword and fly to the fight. She wants to fight. But she can't.

She wants to curl up in bed and cry. She wants to wrap herself up in furs and never come out. But she doesn't. When you're Captain of the Guard, and Knight in Residence, there's always so much to do. Battle may be raging 500 leagues away, but here in Winterfell life still goes on. There's always bandits in the woods and wolves on the loose. Someone needs to man the battlements and organise sentry duty when all the rest have gone to fight.

A boy goes missing from one of the neighbouring villages and the family beg help from their Lady Stark. Brienne co-ordinates the search parties and tramps through the snow (snow!) until he is found (Sometimes she hates the North too). She attends council meetings and dispenses local justice. She designs and rebuilds their battered and broken defences, stripping off her armour and clambering the wooden scaffolding to help hammer in posts and stones. The workmen are old and bent, their hands gnarled and eyesight failing. All the rest, every man of sound body, has gone to fight.

She works until the walls and gates swim before her eyes. Until her fingers are numb with cold and her sword arm throbs and aches. She works until she is so tired that she cannot think, and when she falls onto the straw at night she is too exhausted to worry. She wants to curl up in bed and cry. Sometimes she does, late at night. But mostly she doesn't.

A raven arrives from Kings Landing - Queen Cersei is dead, at the hand of her own twin. Brienne's heart swells with pride and sinks with despair - he has done what he intended to. The message is short and doesn't mention Jaime by name, but she reads it over and over anyway, hoping that the words will blur and convey new meaning. Is he dead or imprisoned? Is he lauded and praised by the new court? He is free of it now, either way. Free at last of the horror and dread, the weight of responsibility.

She feels powerless, trapped up here in the North. She is imprisoned by her own oath, her own honour. Days run into each other, a haze of drilling and training and cold. Someone has to defend the castle, there's no time to lash on her armour and charge off to defend the Kingslayer instead - Queenslayer now - who may or may not be dead already anyway. She wants to. But she won't.

She wants to go inside. The wind is icy and rain is seeping inside her jerkin but Brienne stands in the quad, watching the squires parry each other's blows. She corrects their stances and drills them again and again. The guards are dead or gone, so farmboys man the fort now and they need to be competent. Water drips from the thatches and crenellations, soaking through her cloak and furs. The boys block and thrust and squelch in the mud and Brienne is just considering calling a halt for the day when Jaime Lannister rides through the gates and into the courtyard.

She wants to go to him. She wants to knock him off his horse and into the mud, screaming out all the fear and rage of the last few months. She wants to cry and beat her breast, or run to him, limbs flailing and armour clashing. She wants to turn and walk away, aloof, untouchable. She wants all these things and none of them. She wants to sigh with relief.

She wants to smile. So she does.


End file.
